The Mammoth Book of Vampire Stories by Women

by Stephen Jones

  “Where the hell did you go you stupid, stupid boy?” His mother grabbed his arm and yanked him into the house. “You knew you’d scare me to death, didn’t you?” She was slapping at him. He kept his arms up as she flailed. “How dare you!”

  His Aunt Molly came in with the police officers and shouted for her sister to stop. One of the police officers grabbed at his mum. His Aunt Molly swept him into her arms.

  “Mrs, it’s no good hitting the boy. Stop. Relax. We’ll talk to him.”

  “Bernadette, go upstairs and wash your face in cold water. I’ll talk with Andy and the police. Go on.”

  His mum ripped herself from the policeman’s grasp and growled, foam at the corners of her mouth. “You’ll do no such thing. He’s my son. I’ll deal with him.”

  The constable shook his head. “Mrs, do as your sister says. You take this into your own hands, you’ll be leaving with us.”

  Andrew tried not to cry, but he couldn’t stop himself. He was more afraid than he was sad, but tears came anyway.

  “Look what you’ve done, Bernadette. Andrew’s in tears. Go upstairs. Go, now.”

  His mother stomped upstairs, but he knew she wouldn’t wash her face or anything else. She’d stew in her rage until she couldn’t stand it any longer and come hit him again. His auntie tried to stop it, but she didn’t have any place else to live, so she turned away when she failed. Andrew felt sorry for her, thankful that at least she tried.

  One of the police officers sat down beside Andrew and asked him a hundred questions. Or so it seemed. It was past his bedtime and he was beginning to fall asleep. When the man decided he had enough information, he told Andrew they were going to go by the Delaney’s house. Then the constable asked if Andrew felt safe enough to stay in his house. That they had somewhere else he could stay.

  “It’ll be all right. She gets upset easily. But she always cools down. Besides, I have my auntie.” Aunt Molly grinned from across the room.

  “Okay, then. But you call us if things get heated again. Don’t be afraid.” The police officer looked to Aunt Molly then back to Andrew. “We’ll let you know what our investigation turns up.”

  “Yes, please,” Andrew managed. His eyelids sagging, body limp.

  Last thing he heard was his auntie opening the blanket chest to get him an extra bit of warmth.

  When Andrew woke, he knew half the day had gone. Though it was gray out, he could tell by the angle of the light in his room. His mum was off at work, surely, and his auntie was probably cleaning someone’s house, since it was Wednesday. He dressed in his school clothes and went down to the kitchen. His auntie was sitting at the table having lunch.

  “Ah, well, look who finally got himself up. Did you sleep all right?”

  “Yes, Aunt Molly. I don’t remember going up to bed, though. Is Mum all right?”

  “One of those nice policemen carried you up. You fell asleep before they reached the door, and I knew I’d never get you up those stairs alone.”

  “Is Mum okay?”

  “What do you care? She beats you terribly and wails into the night about how awful you are to make her worry. She doesn’t deserve you, Andy. She was too young to have a child alone in the first place. It should have been me. I’m a better mum to you than she is.” She stopped, looking away from Andrew. “I’m sorry. I know you love your mum. Sometimes, I can’t help myself. The truth slips out. Forgive me.”

  “I love you too, Aunt Molly. Don’t be mad at Mum. She’s unhappy.”

  His auntie smirked at him. “She and all the rest of us miserable old women.”

  “You’re not old.”

  She looked Andrew over. “You think you can go to school now?”

  He looked at the clock over the sink. It was nearly noon. “Four more classes after midday. Yeah. I’m okay, now. Are you cleaning today?”

  Aunt Molly set a sack on the table. “Here’s a sandwich, then. There’s a note inside, but I’ll telephone the school and let them know you’re on your way. And yes, not a day goes by I don’t have a house to clean. I got a cancellation today, that’s all.”

  “Thanks, Auntie. You’re the best!”

  “Oh!” Andrew stopped at the door as his auntie spoke. “Your friend Frank is fine. You’ll see him in school, I’d wager.”

  “Thanks!” Andrew closed the door too hard, but he hardly heard it. He ran to school, anxious to learn what had happened to Frank.

  He caught up with Frank on his way to class. When he saw Andrew, his friend frowned.

  “What? You mad at me?”

  “You pissed off my mum, you stupid idiot. She told me to get lost after school ’cause she was entertaining her friends; so I told her I was meeting you at the church. She just guessed we was going to visit that old guy. You really ruined it for me. When the police showed up, she got even angrier. Don’t you get it? Can’t you be cool?”

  Andrew was speechless. Wouldn’t Frank have done the same for him if he’d seen Andrew on the bus with the old man? Wouldn’t Frank have suspected something was up with the old man being friendly to another boy right after his ward died?

  Frank walked off. Nothing bad had happened to Frank, and that was good, but couldn’t he see that Andrew’s concern was heartfelt and real? Couldn’t he understand that? He hadn’t meant to make Mrs. Delaney angry. Andrew did his best not to cry. He hung his head and shoulders as he went to class.

  He was listless the rest of his day in school. He questioned everything from the moment he saw the old man at the nailer’s cottage with his ward. Were all the strange things he saw and felt just his imagination? Didn’t it seem odd that the old man stayed around Belper after the accident? That he seemed happy and chatty on the bus with Frank? It was creepy. Very creepy.

  All the way home, Andrew kept his head down, watching his feet as he went. When he got there, his mother was remote, ashamed of her behavior, but unable or refusing to apologize and make it up to Andrew. His auntie was quiet, on edge that she’d set off her sister. He felt very alone.

  Up in his room, after he did his homework, Andrew sat in his window staring down at the nailer’s cottage. Growing up, he often sat there, wondering what the street looked like 200 years before when the nailer was busy making his nails and the smoke from his furnace curled upward, meeting the clouds. Were mothers and their sons walking by telling their boys about how their fathers worked in the building trade, and needed the nails? How the nailer had no competition, therefore had a grand house up on the hill near the Lutheran church? Did the sons grow up wanting to be a nailer and have grand houses? Was one of those boys the great-great-granddad to his own father, whom he’d never met? What did his father do now? Was he a builder, a sales clerk, or a doctor? His mother told Andrew little about him. Aunt Molly, well, she had told him all he knew now.

  “Don’t you dare tell your mum I’ve told you about him. She’d have a fit. You still want to know?”

  “Yes, Auntie. Please.” He was about six, or maybe he’d been five.

  “Well, his name was William, but your mum called him Will. She didn’t know when she met him that he was married, but he turned out to be the husband of a very wealthy woman on Jersey. Her parents were very very rich and they all lived in a palace of a house. Of course, Will told your mum he was miserable, no one in his wife’s family respected him and expected that he continue the family business, which had him on the road five days a week. He’d once loved his wife a lot, but she wouldn’t have children because it would ruin her figure. She was evidently very vain.

  “Your mum was far prettier ten years ago than she is now, and Will fell deeply and quickly in love with her. I believe that. Your mum was cautious, only then because she knew he traveled a lot and she wanted someone closer. He did what he could to stay close to Belper for almost a month, but then his wife’s family got suspicious and he disappeared. He wrote to me once. I was married to your Uncle Phillip, then. He asked me to tell Bernadette that he would never forget her. That she’d made him h
appier than he’d ever known, but he was married. He explained his entire situation to me, but I thought it best that it all remain a mystery. I told your mum I thought he was probably married and a cad and to leave it at that. A month later, she realized that you were on your way.

  “She was extremely hurt by Will abandoning her. When your Uncle Phillip died suddenly and left me with huge debts, your mum and I found we needed each other too much to dwell on any one betrayal or loss. We agreed that you would be the one thing that made up for it all. And you have. One day, when you’re all grown up, we’ll see if we can find your father.”

  Andrew thought about that every time his mother beat him. It was with his father that she was truly angry. But he could never say that. That would betray his auntie’s confidence. And that confidence had given him all there was of his father. It was too precious to let go.

  The next day, it rained. The class stayed inside instead of going out to the playground. Frank did not attempt to talk to Andrew, nor did he acknowledge Andrew when he tried to speak with him. One of the girls who fancied Andrew, thrilled by the fact that there was no one to take Andrew away, flirted with him, completely embarrassing him. Andrew’s fleeting attempts at attracting attention, praying someone would save him, went unseen. When she told him she’d like to be his girlfriend, he mumbled something about his mother not allowing him to have girlfriends and bolted.

  At the bottom of Green Street, he saw the tall, thin figure of a man, his face covered by an umbrella, standing across from his home. Andrew knew it was the old man even before he turned to look at him. He continued to walk up the street, then stopped a few feet away, suddenly taken by a thought.

  Perhaps this was his granddad. He had found out that his son had sired a child and was looking for Andrew everywhere. Maybe, the boy with him had been his brother! What if his father had fled his unhappy marriage and moved to Turkey? And that was why the old man was friendly with Frank? To find out if he was the lost child he’d been looking for! Why hadn’t he thought of this before?

  The old man stepped close to Andrew. “Do you live around here?”

  “Yes, there.” Andrew pointed across the way. “You asked me that before, but then I didn’t know it was you.”

  “You know who I am, then?” The stranger smiled, pleased.

  “My father’s father?” Andrew’s heart was beating so fast, soaring with desperate hope.

  “Yes!” The old man put his hand over his mouth. “My grandson! It is you!”

  “Granddad?”

  “Yes! It is I. What do they call you …?” He looked away a moment, which to Andrew felt like an eternity. “Andy, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, Granddad. Andy.”

  “I’ve come to take you home.” The old man’s face held such warmth and benevolence. Andrew was about to burst with joy.

  “To my father?”

  He nodded. “To your father. He will be so pleased to see you. The whole family will.”

  “I have a whole family? Oh, Granddad. Really?”

  “Yes, I’ll tell you all about them. But the airplane leaves from Heathrow tomorrow. We will have to leave now if we are going to make it. I have a hotel room near Paddington.”

  “But Mum. Auntie Molly.” The lights were on in the kitchen and he knew his auntie was busy with supper.

  “They’ve had you for ten years. It’s time your father gets to know you, yes?”

  The flicker of fear, the moment of hesitation melted into decision. He would go where a real family awaited him. The unknown, for which his mum and auntie had long prepared him to meet with trepidation and reluctance, was suddenly a welcome place.

  “Yes, all right. But my clothes? I’ve got my school blazer and …”

  “There is a suitcase full of clothes for you in the hotel. Have you ever been to London before?”

  “Granddad, I’ve never even been in a taxi!”

  “Then a taxi we shall take to Derby. Then a first class coach on the train just for you.”

  “I’ll need a passport. Won’t I need papers or something? On television, when they …”

  “Yes! Yes, my son. You’ll have all of that. I have taken care of everything.” The old man squeezed Andrew’s shoulder, grinning down at Andrew. “Everything.”

  Andrew grinned back. “Is my family rich then, Granddad?”

  “We are an old and wealthy family, my son.”

  “Yes, Auntie told me. You don’t mind if she told me, do you? She’s kept the secret from Mum all of these years.”

  “Of course not. When you write to your mother and aunt, once you are settled, it will no longer be a secret. You can relax and be free.”

  Suddenly, Andrew realized that it was no longer raining and a taxi waited at the bottom of the street. It was dark, the streets glistened, his life was ahead of him and he was going to his father’s home!

  Of course, there was no father waiting, though there was a rich family on a huge estate in Turkey. Granddad told Andrew once he was on the airplane, strapped into a seat in First Class up 33,000 feet in the air, that he would one day help him find his father. For now though, there was an ancient and revered family waiting just for him in a home far grander than anything he could imagine, where he would never feel lonely again.

  Andrew realized then, too late, that the words his mum and auntie had bantered about that evening two days ago, “kidnapped” and “pedophile” now related to him. He told Granddad this, but the old man denied it. Andrew had been chosen. He was special. No one would ever touch him in that way; he was a sacred vessel. Everything the old man said was full of vagaries and obfuscations. Andrew couldn’t get a straight answer. The long limousine ride lulled Andrew into a series of naps, each time waking him into the nightmare. They finally slowed as they came to a towering wall of pale bricks covered with climbing vines. Two men without shirts on and fabric wrapped around their heads pulled on the iron gate in the wall until it was open wide enough for the limousine.

  When Andrew saw the great mansion, he still hoped that his father really was inside and that Granddad had just been playing around with him. Within were many other boys and girls, some near his age, some younger and older. They spoke many languages and dressed in white, from neck to toes. They wandered about freely, but they all seemed sad like the boy who’d died on the triangle, their eyes empty.

  Granddad sat on the chair beside the large bed that would be Andrew’s. Andrew changed into a white shirt and trousers and white sandals. Granddad watched, but was not curious. His stare was benign. Disinterested.

  Andrew shivered, though the room was warm. “Why did you choose me? You had Frank Delaney.”

  “Yes, the boy who came to me. Frank was his name?” Granddad looked out the window to the bleak, rust and gray sunset, musing. “Frank. A hard boy. Old in his soul. He lacked the most important attribute. The essence for which we travel the world. The pure emanation. It was you all the while, Andrew. The moment I saw you, I knew.”

  Andrew felt emboldened by pride in having been chosen. No one had really noticed Andrew before, at least not to pick him out from all the others. And never before Frank Delaney. Perhaps this gave him power. He could survive this!

  “What happened to him? The boy you were with. Did you kill him?”

  Granddad laughed dryly. “Oh, no. Why would I have done that? He was a great loss.” The old man got up and went to the window. “No, I didn’t kill him, but I was at fault in a way. I was to bring him here in full essence, but I was too hungry. I took from him and could not stop myself. He was exhausted from my feeding, not watching where he was going. I was deeply upset by his passing. My tears were real. Once he was gone, there was nothing for me to do but wait for you.”

  “Do you even know if I have a father somewhere?” Andrew was scared, angry, and hopeful all at once.

  “Oh, yes. I’d know it if you had lost him. Boys like you, growing up with overprotective single mothers, absent fathers, sometimes grow into angry, hard young men
. Just as Frank will, though his father is in the house. Then it is too late. These boys meet the ‘old man,’ as they inevitably call him, and hate him. Not you, young Andrew. You have kept the hope, a rich part of the essence. You will be prized.” The Granddad walked to him and placed his hands on his shoulders. “But you must retain your essence until you meet the mistress, so I will leave you. I’ve said too much already.”

  “I don’t understand any of this. Don’t go. Please. I don’t want to be alone in here.” He began to cry.

  “I don’t dare stay, young Andrew. I’d be too tempted. You are my penance, my find to make up for the losses I was so foolishly unable to protect from myself.” The old man saw the fear in Andrew, his confusion. “You are not a prisoner, son. Look around. Meet some of the others.” He went to the door. “Are you hungry?”

  Andrew nodded, though he was more afraid than hungry. His stomach was a tight fist in his belly.

  “There is more food than you can dream of downstairs. Go find the dining room. Make friends. See all the toys and books and games available around the grounds. One day soon, you will wonder why you ever thought to leave.” He waited a moment. “You are thinking you’d like to leave, aren’t you?”

  Again, Andrew nodded. There were no other thoughts in his head.

  “And you’re thinking of your mother, your aunt. What will become of them without you?”

  Andrew looked away, his eyes aching, his face wet with tears.

  “Soon you will not care. Find comfort in the knowledge that you will have no cares, and that you will be treasured far more than you ever were in that dingy mill town of yours.”

  Granddad left. Andrew found himself at the balcony with dry heaves, no food in his gut. He cried, wept until he ached all over. Then he crawled onto the bed and stared up at the canopy of gilded silk. He longed for the smells of home. The wet stone, moss, the musty cellar, a crackling fire of hickory and oak, and Aunt Molly’s scones. Here, the dry air smelled of dust and peat, cinnamon and sage.